Twilight's Possession - Burning Hunger Part 13

His face had gone white. His knuckles too. "Everyone okay?" he mumbled.

"Yeah," she answered, her voice shaky.

"I'm okay too," Marek muttered.

"Good." Dayne didn't say another word. He didn't turn his head. He didn't loosen his grip on the steering wheel. And neither Brea nor Marek dared ask him any more questions. Brea figured they'd have their answers soon enough-a.s.suming they made it to their destination alive.

About forty minutes after their close call, the car rolled to a smooth stop behind a building that looked like some kind of church. Dayne s.h.i.+fted the vehicle into park, motioned to Brea to stay put then twisted in his seat to talk to Marek. "I don't know if there'll be anyone here waiting for us or not. But I'm almost positive this is the right place."

"What is it?" Brea asked. It didn't look like the kind of place one would expect to find a model of the solar system.

"Holy Redeemer Presbyterian Church. Better take some weapons," Dayne warned.

The two men gave her a warning glance before getting out of the car.

Marek opened her door and poked his head inside. "Stay here. And keep your eyes open," he whispered. "If things get bad, drive away. Save yourself."

She hoped it wouldn't come to that. "Wouldn't it be safer for me to come with you?" She scooted into the driver's seat and opened the window.

The two guys traded questioning looks over the car then said, "No," in unison.

Of course not. Why did she know they'd say that? "Be careful. Please."

Marek ducked down again and whispered, "There's a dagger in the trunk. As soon as we're inside, get it. Keep it with you. Stay safe. I'm not sure what's going on here. Something isn't right."

"I'm scared."

"I love you." He palmed her cheek gently.

She pressed her hand to the back of his. "Marek."

Slowly he moved away, his eyes heavy with worry. "Stay safe," he repeated.

Her heart doing its best to bust through her rib cage, she watched her Chippendales head inside then popped the trunk and s.n.a.t.c.hed the leather-sheathed dagger. Shaking, she returned to the relative safety of the car, locked the doors and stared at the building's entry.

She doubted she'd be able to take another breath until both her Chippendales were back with her, safe. Ironic, but she couldn't care less anymore about the stupid Triad. Her case, her job simply didn't matter.

Marek held his sword drawn. There wasn't a muscle in his body not tensed, ready. His senses were alert-sight, hearing, smell. His nerves jangled. He stopped in the center of what had probably been the church's sanctuary, a ma.s.sive room, empty now, topped with a gla.s.s dome. The walls were covered in painted tiles, the mural a clear representation of the solar system.

"The clue?" Dayne, standing at the opposite end of the room, pointed at a section of the wall next to him. "What did it say again?"

Marek switched his sword to his left hand and stuffed his right into his pocket. He retrieved the folded piece of paper and smoothed it against his chest. "To the place go thee where the sun never sets, past worlds that guard a rival's darkest secrets." s.h.i.+fting his sword back to his dominant hand, he hurried across the empty s.p.a.ce. His footsteps echoed off the walls, ceiling and floor. "What do you see?"

He followed the direction of Dayne's pointed index finger to a swirling symbol stamped in one of the clay tiles. The identical symbol graced the base of his sword's polished blade. "The symbol of the Sons of Twilight?" He traced the curling lines with his fingertip. "This has to be it. How'd you know to come here?" He used his fingers to search the lumpy surface of the tiles for some kind of b.u.t.ton, switch or k.n.o.b.

"I...had a suspicion."

Clearly Dayne wasn't telling him everything. Should he press for more? Or trust his former enemy? "The rest of the clue reads, 'A twist to the left brings thine treasure in sight. But a wrong turn and darkness defeats Twilight'. See anything that turns or twists?"

Dayne stood beside him, mirroring his position, one fist gripping a silver-bladed sword, the other hand flattened against the wall, skimming over its surface. "Not yet. But there is an interesting hole here...s.h.i.+t!"

Marek swung around just in time to see Dayne lift his sword high over his head. Operating on pure reflex, he ducked and lunged out of the path of Dayne's blade, curling into a ball. He somersaulted on the floor and leapt to his feet, spinning on one foot at the clang of metal striking metal.

He scooped his dropped sword up and stood frozen in shock. Dayne shuffled backward, just escaping a blow to his shoulder. His a.s.sailant's small, compact body, clothed head-to-toe in black, moved quickly, taking advantage of Dayne's position. He'd backed himself against the wall but he was doing okay defending himself.

Marek was about to come to his aid when Dayne glanced Marek's way and shouted, "Look out!"

Marek simultaneously lifted his weapon and turned, swinging it in a wide arc. The blade sliced into the a.s.sailant behind him, dragging a red gaping wound across his torso. The masked attacker staggered backward then stumbled and crumpled to the ground.

A rush of similarly dressed men fell upon him. The deafening clang of silver striking silver filled the room. Marek didn't have time to think, only act. And react. Attack. Defend. Parry. Block. Over time, the blows came less frequently as the number of his attackers decreased.

And then it was done. He stood in the middle of the carnage. Mangled black-clothed bodies strewn about his feet. Dayne was about twenty feet away, also standing. His clothes were stained red, splattered with their enemy's blood.

Marek looked down at the closest body. They were all so small. He ripped the knit mask away, finding the face of...a woman. "What is this?" he murmured, not expecting an answer.

Stepping up beside him, Dayne answered, "It's really quite clever. Since the Sons of Twilight cannot be exposed to sunlight, having all female warriors means they have a tactical advantage."

"Did you know?"

"What? That they were women?" At Marek's nod, he whispered, "Yes."

Marek dropped on one knee. "I've never slain a woman. Women shouldn't be warriors. They shouldn't be facing this kind of danger. What made them want to do such a thing? And what about their husbands? Their fathers? Their brothers? Did they know?"

Dayne offered a hand of support on Marek's shoulder. A simple touch, yet it spoke volumes. Marek brushed a golden lock of hair from the dead woman's face and gently forced her eyelids closed. From the neck up, she looked like she was napping. The ugly gouge across her stomach ruined the facade.

Dayne gave Marek's shoulder a couple of pats. "We should get going. Before they send in another unit."

"There are more?"

"Plenty. They'll be here in about," Dayne glanced down at his watch, "four minutes."

"Was this a trap?"

"Not exactly." Dayne rushed toward the wall they'd been inspecting before the attack and extended an arm back to Marek. "Let me see your sword."

Marek felt his forehead wrinkle in confusion. He hesitated, not sure if he could trust Dayne or not. He'd more or less confessed to knowingly leading them into an ambush. What was next? For all he knew, his sword might be the only thing keeping him alive. Who was his enemy? His ally?

As if he sensed Marek's suspicion, Dayne turned to face him fully. "We're running out of time."

"You say," Marek shot back.

"Yes, I say we're running out of time. What are you trying to say?"

"For all I know, you brought me here to have me slaughtered. And now that Plan A has failed, you're going to disarm me so you can kill me yourself."

"Why would I bother warning you before that first blow if that was the case?"

"Maybe you decided you wanted the satisfaction of killing me yourself?"

"And kill myself in the process?"

"Maybe revenge is worth it to you. After all, there was a time when you would've done just about anything to be in this position. I know that."

"You're right. I did want revenge, and I had planned on killing you. But not anymore." Dayne looked past Marek to the dead bodies strewn about the floor. "Nothing's worth all this."

His suspicions easing, Marek moved closer to his bound mate. "I want to believe you. But you spent so many years hating me. My brother. Blaming us."

"Let's just say I've been enlightened." He thrust his hand forward and yanked Marek's sword from his loose grasp. Instinctively, Marek turned and leaped, landing in a roll about ten feet away.

Dayne spun around and, holding the sword by the blade, thrust the handle of Marek's weapon into the hole carved into the tile. "The engraving. Your sword is the key." He twisted it ninety degrees to the left. There was a groan of stone grinding against stone. An opening appeared in the wall.

Illuminated from a single shaft of light from above and, about fifteen feet within the otherwise pitch-black room, sat a single crystal pedestal not unlike the one holding the Book of Secrets. Atop the pedestal was the Triad.

"We have less than two minutes," Dayne reminded him. "Trust me now?" Turning, he rushed into the dark room.

"Wait!" Marek called after him. "Remember the rest of the clue?"

Dayne slammed into something invisible and stumbled backward.

"We take a wrong turn and we're done." Hurrying to Dayne's side, Marek felt the surface in front of them then looked down. It seemed that the walls were made of some kind of transparent substance, a lot like gla.s.s. "It's a maze." He looked down at the floor.

The darkness beneath their feet was strange. It had depth, rather than looking flat, like tile. He stomped a foot. The answering sound was hollow. "I get it. We take a wrong turn and we'll fall down there."

"No pressure," Dayne said dryly. "We don't even know where the corners are."

The pounding of dozens of running feet made them both look back. A crush of warriors were headed their way, swords raised.

"s.h.i.+t!" Using one hand on the slick wall as a guide, Marek led the way at a fast jog. He dragged his sword out of the scabbard and the blade caught a shaft of light from somewhere. Pinpoints of light glittered off the reflective surface of the walls. "This way!" he shouted, recognizing a black area to the right as a doorway. Similarly, black gaps large enough for a grown man to fall through on the floor indicated wrong turns.

Dayne dogged his heels as he ran, also tipping his sword to flash stars on the floors and walls, a celestial guide through the blackness.

The screams of their pursuers as they took wrong turns and tumbled into the abyss chilled Marek's blood and caused him to falter twice. He wanted to stop, to beg them to turn back, but he knew they would no sooner believe his warning than he'd trusted Dayne.

Both of them reached the Triad at the same time. Dayne looked askance before reaching for it.

Marek nodded. "I trust you."

Dayne cradled the relic that would save their king's life in his arms as if his own life depended upon it. "Wonder if there's another way out?" He pointed behind Marek, to the handful of warriors who had managed to make their way safely through the maze.

"I really don't want to kill another woman."

Dayne took a long look around them then nodded his head, as if he'd made a decision. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

Dayne moved around the side of the pedestal, to the last gap in the floor that they'd avoided. He held the Triad over the hole. "Stop!"

Marek's heart climbed up his throat.

"You will throw down your weapons and retreat or the Triad will be destroyed."

The warriors halted, set down their swords and started shuffling backward.

Dayne motioned for Marek to go ahead. "I'll follow but not until you're safe."

It was one of the most difficult tests of trust Marek had ever faced but he did as Dayne said. Even after he was safely outside the maze, he didn't take his eyes off Dayne. He couldn't. Not until he too had pa.s.sed the final gap in the floor.

The warriors retreated, seeming to accept the defeat too easily. It made him edgy as they walked out of the building, the Triad in hand.

When they reached their car, he realized why the warriors hadn't attacked.

Two warriors dragged Brea around the side of a black van, the silver blade of her dagger pressed to her throat.

"The Triad," one of them demanded, releasing Brea's arm to thrust an upturned palm toward Dayne.

They'd gotten this close, only to lose it? Marek could see Brea was pleading for them not to hand the relic to the warrior. But he had to. He knew that neither he nor Dayne could stand by and watch the warriors kill her.

Even if it meant the death of his brother.

Unless...what if they destroyed it before the curse was lifted? What would happen? Would the curse be broken? Or would Kaden die?

d.a.m.n it. He faced an impossible decision.

At least in death, Kaden would be spared the agony of the curse. But that was an extremely small comfort. He was Marek's only remaining family.

"There's no hope of escape." The warrior holding Brea jerked the dagger, causing the blade to bite into the skin of her neck. A rivulet of blood dribbled down from the wound, yet Brea remained silent, defiant.

f.u.c.k! There was precious little time to decide. What would Kaden wish? For him to hand over the Triad and save their own b.u.t.ts, thereby sealing his doom? Or to possibly a.s.sure no king after him would endure the agony of the curse?

He took another look around. They were grossly outnumbered, and since a half dozen warriors surrounded their car, even if he was able to get Brea free from the one holding her, they'd have to escape on foot. How likely was that?

"Let her go, and you can have it," Dayne demanded, pulling the relic tucked in his jacket out into view.

Marek's body tensed. He'd have to time it just right, push Brea clear of the warriors' reach and then kick the Triad out of their hands. He hoped the impact as it fell would destroy it. History dictated the ancient artifact was not easily damaged.

But if he were successful, and the Triad destroyed, the warriors would leave. They'd no longer have any reason to pursue them.

And his brother...he only hoped he'd be given the chance to explain. And say goodbye. At least his suffering would be over.

Dayne stepped in front of Marek, the Triad held at arm's length in front of him. One of the warriors pushed Brea forward, using her as a s.h.i.+eld.

Marek moved silently and slowly.

"Release her," Dayne demanded again.

"Not until we have the Triad."